


"So you were only pretending...to be heartless?"

by orelseatlastsheunderstoodit



Series: My Doctor Who Meta [2]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Meta, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:44:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orelseatlastsheunderstoodit/pseuds/orelseatlastsheunderstoodit
Summary: Written in October 2014. Turned out to be the moment I 'got' Twelve and he became my Doctor.





	"So you were only pretending...to be heartless?"

You know, I suppose I fell for it, too. That this version of the Doctor is darker (he is), that this version of the Doctor is more gruff, more brusque (he is), that this version of the Doctor is heartless (he isn’t).

But he’s still the Doctor. He’s still the character that I’ve come to know and to love.

For me, each new regeneration takes time for me to see them as the Doctor. I suppose it’s easier for me to accept Classic Doctors because I’m looking for things that I’ve seen in Doctors that come later, things the later Doctors (whom I know better) had in reference to those who came before.

Nine was my first Doctor, all broody, mysterious, dryly sarcastic, wounded and healing, overjoyed when an adventure ended in life and not death, fierce and angry and threatening the Daleks when they’d taken Rose. I suppose I judge every Doctor I meet by the one I met first.

Then came Ten. Rose might have been sure of him by the end of “The Christmas Invasion,” but I wasn’t so sure. Yeah, he’d quoted  _The Lion King_  and defeated the baddies in pajamas, but he’d also started the events that led to Harriet Jones’ deposition. His darkness and his pain was hidden under a streak of bubbly love and wide-eyed, brainy-spec'ed vision at fascinating lifeforms. But I knew he was the Doctor at the end of “New Earth,” where he’s jumping up and down in the lift, drenched, overjoyed that he’s saved two sets of life that day, the people in the hospital and the people who were the hospital. That’s when I knew that he was the Doctor.

And Ten went dark places, despite the love and the fascination and the wanting-to-be-human-ness. He could be cold, even as he was burning with anger. He could be ruthless. And he scared me as the Time Lord Victorious, which, while being a facet of himself that he can be, isn’t a version of himself that I think he should be. His ferocity there felt more like desperation, of wanting to change what couldn’t be changed.

Then came Eleven. I’d accidentally seen “The Time of Angels” (and had to follow it up with “Flesh and Stone” because, hey, it was my first Weeping Angels episode and I had a nightmare about them) and saw that brilliant speech of his about what shouldn’t be put into traps. It felt like the speech Nine gave to the Dalek fleet when he was about to rescue Rose. It felt like something the Doctor would say. And so when I met him officially in “The Eleventh Hour,” I was sure of him being the Doctor before he stepped through the hologram and says “Hello. I’m the Doctor. Basically, run.”

And Eleven hid his darkness, his pain, and his schemes under a well-worn veneer of childishness, flirtations, and a bouncy, happy-go-lucky optimism despite the fact that he didn’t really feel all that happy or that lucky. He lived with lies because he had to, and he had implacable enemies fighting him in a war he didn’t even know he was a part of. And then when he finds out how the war against him started, he’s besieged for hundreds of years, fighting and watching as people were born and either grew old and died or died at the hands (or plungers or what-have-you) of his enemies. He was tired of losing those he loved. Tired, tired, tired.

Then came Twelve. And to be honest, I haven’t been sure of him. Granted, this is the first time I’ve had to get to know a Doctor week-by-week instead of having every episode already readily accessible to me. I’ve been a bit wary of him, partially due to how we were primed for this ‘darker Doctor.’ And I’ve been wary of him because he’s seemingly more gruff, more brusque, more heartless. I kept watching, knowing that sooner or later I’d see the Doctor in this version of him. It’s been much slower, though.

But his excitement of the moon being an egg felt like seeing a glimpse of Ten whipping on the brainy specs and saying “Fascinating.” His sarcasm about saving everyone on the train being a cover story felt like something Nine would have said (although the self-deprecating “Ha ha” was all Twelve). He schemes a bit like Eleven did, though he’s far more willing to throw Clara into the mix without explanation. He’s unsure of what to do when he doesn’t have the guilt of a destroyed world and people on his conscience. He doesn’t know what’s in store with this set of regenerations he got from whomever’s behind that crack. He doesn’t know where he stands with Clara (partially because they both obviously suck at communicating feelings).

Twelve is gruff, he is blunt, he is brusque. He’s brutally honest.  He’ll say he’s on the world of pudding-brains and that he’s surrounded by idiots, and, frankly, he insults species when he’s stressed. He has no time to mourn when there’s a gun at his head.

But I’m sure he’s the Doctor.

Why?

Because of little moments. Because of subtle moments. Because of his promise to Gretchen. Because of his face when he thought Saibra had been shredded. Because he listed the names off to Clara of the people who’d been killed by the mummy above the Orient Express. He reeled them off, one by one. I don’t even know their names, but he knows them. And the memory of the people he was unable to save still hurts.

He’s more gruff and more brusque because maybe he thinks it’s going to hurt him less if he is. He waves at Dalek goop and says, “Yeh, top layer if you wanna say some words” when they’re still inside the gun. He waves goodbye to the Merry Man who’s riddled with terminal diseases because there’s apparently nothing he can do. He’s brought more of his darkness and his pain to the forefront because he doesn’t feel like he has to hide them anymore, but to protect himself from more pain he pretends that he’s heartless.

But he has two hearts.

And he knew their names.

And he’s the Doctor.


End file.
